


Drivin' Nails in My Coffin

by Sheselectric



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheselectric/pseuds/Sheselectric
Summary: Dutch was like that—attracting lost causes and turning them into something.  Maybe not all of them. Or maybe not quite.The newest addition to the van der Linde gang was a prime example of that.Or: Arthur has to clean her mess one too many times.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 21
Kudos: 80





	Drivin' Nails in My Coffin

**Author's Note:**

> The female character is left vague and unnamed for all your SI needs.

_The nerve on that woman_.

“Where did you even find her?” He asked Dutch back in the day and all he got back was a raspy laugh.

He did find them _somewhere_ , that was for sure. The lost, the poor, the forever-searching. Dutch was like that—attracting lost causes and turning them into something.

Maybe not all of them. Or maybe not quite.

The newest addition to the van der Linde gang was a prime example of that.

She was about as careful Sean was, but he had the benefit of having been running with the gang for a few years now.

She didn’t.

What she did have was the charms needed to seduce and rob some or other poor bastard, but she’d never come out of it unscathed.

“I could’ve dealt with him,” she said as he dragged her downstairs after beating the man senseless.

“You sure could,” Arthur answered sarcastically when they stepped out of the inn and onto the muddy main street of Valentine.

“I can take care of myself,” she said with an edge to her voice. “I don’t need the gang’s muscle to come runnin’ anytime he hears a squeak.”

_The nerve on that woman._

He inhaled deeply as he approached his horse, reassuringly petting his mane, and collecting himself, so his words wouldn’t come out as harsh as they sounded in his head.

“Yeah, well, believe me, I have better things to do than save you from trouble every other day. And if you really could take a man down yourself, it’d make my work goddamn easy.”

She huffed as she mounted her horse, her lips thinning into a line as she looked at Arthur.

“You’re one nasty man,” she said and took off without as much as a goodbye. Or thank you. Either one would have made him like her more.

“I ain’t ever said I was nice,” he said to himself and got on his horse, hoping that today’s would be the last interaction he’d have with her for a few days at least.

~

It wasn’t as if her presence could be avoided.

He was sitting in his tent, journal in his hand, and a refreshing breeze blowing through when he heard her. It seemed that her arguments with Susan were a daily occurrence now, happening as soon as the sun rose, and waking the camp’s bums and drunks.

This part he didn’t mind, the corner of his lips rising ever so slightly when he’d notice Uncle scrambling from the ground in a slumbery shock, but he did mind how rude she could get.

Maybe if it was any other girl, he wouldn’t pay it much mind—Susan ran them tight, and bickering back and forth was the reality of his life for a good few years now. That’s simply how women around him were.

But she seemed to grate on him in a way no-one else did, each of her little mean comments, and huffs, and angry gestures pushing him a tiny bit over the edge.

And just when he forced himself to get back to scribbling in his journal, he could see her from the corner of his eyes, marching through the camp with a scowl on her face.

“Having a good morning?” He shouted, unable to stop himself and she looked at him as if to say something, her lips opening and closing in the way a fish would.

Instead of throwing some insult though, she simply huffed and walked away, her cheeks red and hair in disarray.

At that moment, Arthur thought her handsome.

Or maybe he thought her nicer than usual.

She was always good-looking—all women capable of playing strange men like a fiddle were—but her demeanor was enough for the charm to wear off. 

Not that Arthur would ever dwell on a woman’s beauty. Not since Mary. That part of his life seemed to have been locked away, his desires only ever coming out during long, cold nights, and being sated quickly and without much ado.

She, however, seemed to move something in him, a stir in his stomach that’d scare him had he not decided to ignore it entirely. To pretend it simply _wasn’t_ there. He didn’t like her and she most definitely didn’t like him.

That was enough.

He lifted himself off the bed and wandered to the bonfire, pouring himself a cup of coffee, and enjoying the bitter taste. It was then that he heard Sean.

“I can promise you, lassie, it’ll be well worth our time," he said excitedly. "Easy job, you play the lost little girl and then we rob them blind.”

His words were aimed at no-one else but the lady of the morning, her face lighting up as she listened to whatever Sean was selling. Normally, Arthur would let fools be fools, but the two of them together was a mix he wouldn’t wish on his enemies, let alone on his own gang, so he gulped the rest of the coffee while approaching them.

“Ah, the Englishman.” Sean’s chirpy tone was slowly being replaced with irritation. “No other place to sour the mood, eh?”

She was eyeing the both of them curiously, her eyes slanting ever so slightly anytime they landed on Arthur.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of you to go together,” he said almost nonchalantly. “Ain’t no need to call attention to ourselves.”

“Oh, piss off,” Sean said, his expression turning properly annoyed. “I’m not giving this one up. You can come with if you want.”

He forced the last words out, an attempt at a truce which they both knew wouldn’t be accepted.

“I don’t think so,” Arthur said and patted him on the arm. “What about I’ll take her with me and we’ll split whatever we rob with you?”

Before Sean could answer, she stepped forward, anger brewing in her eyes.

“I don’t need your help,” she spewed. “ _We_ don’t need your help. We have it all planned out, beginning to end. I’m making your job _goddamn easy_.”

She bounced his words back at him and he couldn’t help but laugh. She really did believe she was doing him a favor, not realizing that whatever mess the gang members made, he was the one to clean it up.

Break someone out of jail, take them back from the enemy gang, _hell_ , even ride into town and shoot the noose off before it could snap their necks. He was the one to do all that and the goddamned girl thought she was making it easier for him.

“Go with the man,” Sean said and she looked at him with surprise. “He never lets up, that one.”

She seized him up and down, the anger reddening her cheeks and making her lower lip tremble.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere with you,” she said and he grunted.

“If it’s any consolation,” he said, “I’d rather take Sean. I just ain’t sure he could play a lady in distress well enough.”

He gave her a wide smile and she shook her head in disbelief. “Anyway,” he continued, “you better fill me in on the details.”

~

The details were these: a wagon full of military wages making its way up to Fort Wallace through a thick wilderness of the Cumberland Forest. Supposedly protected by just two guards, as the proximity of the military garrison was sure to repel any maniacs wishing to rob them.

If it was up to Arthur, he’d not risk it at all. He didn’t believe the tales of easy riches—not even if it came to the American army. But he was a man of his word, and he’d told Sean he’d get his share.

In any case, it was better than having him and his equally sloppy companion do the robbery themselves.

The companion which now rode by Arthur’s side, not giving him a second glance. He found it amusing how offended she acted, but he didn’t say anything—as much as he liked teasing, he doubted getting her in a mood would help with what they had to do.

As the dawn fell, they dismounted their horses, forcing them to flee to a safe distance while they crouched behind a boulder, just off the side from which the wagon would come.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warned as he found the right position to aim.

To his surprise, she nodded her head in agreement, already working on making herself look miserable. Whatever Arthur thought of her, the girl knew how to play her act.

“They’re coming,” he said just as the wagon tumbled down the road.

The second it was in their view, she lifted off and ran straight in front of it, forcing the driver to halt aggressively.

“Mister, I…,” she started, tears collecting in her eyes. “My husband, t-they, they took my husband and…” She stopped dramatically, a deep, sorrowful whine leaving her lips.

“Calm down, miss,” the man next to the driver said. “Tell us exactly what happened.”

Arthur knew that she had to keep them going just for a minute longer, hopefully getting one of them off the wagon, so he could shoot the other. And they would have made it work if not for the escort showing up. Two soldiers on horses and probably a few more not quite there yet.

“Goddammit,” he mumbled, hoping that she wouldn’t be stupid enough to start anything.

 _Just run away_ , he thought. _Run._

Instead, she did what he deep down expected she would. The revolver was in her hand faster than he could blink, and she fired it without a second thought. The driver slumped down the wagon, leaving a trail of blood as he did, and the horses got into a frenzied gallop, nearly running her over in the process.

“Christ,” he said and jumped from behind the boulder, shooting one of the guards in the head. “They’re gonna bring a whole goddamned army,” he said, anger ringing in his voice.

“We’ll have our money before that happens,” she said with a foolish conviction that made his blood boil.

“You’ve really lost it this time,” he seethed, but that was about all he could do when two more of the escorts made their way down the road.

And then he was in the middle of the shoot-out once again. It seemed that all he was doing lately was fighting his way out of some nasty business, and the fact that this one could’ve truly been avoided, made him that much angrier.

He shot one of the men right through the skull while whistling for his horse to come. When it did, he hopped on, grabbing her by the arm and forcing her up behind him. The only saving grace for that whole mess would be if they did manage to get the money, but that wasn’t happening—he could hear the men shouting from the distance, and knew that all was left to do was run.

Run and lay low, and hope they’d give it up in a day or two.

“My horse,” she shouted as they went into a gallop, but he wasn’t stopping for nothing.

“It’ll find its way back,” he said, not to console her but to prevent her from whining.

She did not say anything else and instead wrapped her arms tightly around his waist to avoid falling off. He knew she wouldn’t have done that any other time and he found he was better off for it because feeling her hot body flush against him when he was this angry did nothing to soothe his nerves.

What it did instead was kick-off that familiar churn in his stomach that he couldn’t contain and which seemed to travel right down to his groins. He cursed quietly under his breath.

They made it up the mountains and onto a small flattened area that allowed him to see the entire region clearly without anyone spotting them.

“Get down,” he ordered and exhaled with relief as her arms left his waist.

If he thought the feeling would go away entirely though, he was wrong, because it stirred and stirred, and he had to get down to making a bonfire to stop himself from saying something he’d regret.

For once, she seemed to know better than to start something, walking a fair distance away from him and sitting on the edge of the cliff.

And maybe if she’d been another man, it would’ve been easier. He would tell her that one more stunt like this and he’d put another hole in her head, and she’d laugh, and he would, and they’d share a drink because that’s how those things usually went.

Instead, he was dealing with anger he had no way of calming, and seeing her face as she approached the fire made it burn that much harder.

“I’m sorry, alright,” she said as she sat by his side.

The words, however surprising that they were coming from her, made him scoff.

“Sorry ain’t gonna help once you get the law on our backs,” he grunted even though he knew there was no point in holding the grudge.

He’d always tell Dutch how it was a fool’s game, but he was angry, and maybe he was a fool.

Some emotions he didn’t care to understand nor name brewed on her face, and her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him.

“We needed the money,” she said. “You know we did with everything going down now.” She shook her head as if she suddenly decided on the alternative course of action. “I own my mistakes, but I ain’t gonna apologize again.”

The words sent a burning spike of irritation down his body and he leaned in her direction with a hard look in his eyes.

“You own nothin’. You’re a fool who tries to get us killed and with the way you’re goin’, you might actually succeed.” Maybe that was where he should’ve stopped, but he was too far gone already, harsh words coming out sooner than he could think them through. “And I ain’t your nursemaid that’ll clean your mess every time.”

Anger flickered in her eyes, redness spreading on her cheeks and down her chest as she raised her voice.

“You wouldn’t need to clean anything weren’t you followin’ me like a stray dog all the time. I can work on my own just fine.”

The words pushed him over the edge and he grabbed her arm, pulling her so close to his face that they shared the same air.

“I’d watch your mouth or the next time I’m cleanin’, it’ll be because someone put a bullet in your head.”

For a second, they were just seizing each other, the tension so heavy that it’d make him uncomfortable hadn’t he been in a particular state of mind. And then she pressed her lips on his.

It was barely a brush and she backed off quickly, anger in her eyes replaced with shock as if she didn’t quite believe what she’d just done.

Under any other circumstances, he’d tell her a few harsh words for doing something so stupid, but instead, he sat there heavy as a stone, pent-up desire burning in his groins.

And maybe he truly should have told her to go to hell because nothing good could ever come out of all this, but it seemed as if he’d held back for a little bit too long now.

Arthur grabbed her neck and pulled her back to his lips, a gasp of surprise escaping her own. He swallowed the sound, tightening his hold on her until she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss; her body pressing into his with a fervent need.

It was as if she’d always wanted this. As if she was waiting for the moment to happen, and he could not quite believe that it was what he was feeling too. The realization that he had her—that he’d take her in a matter of minutes—set his insides aflame. 

Arthur pulled her into his lap, hands traveling under her skirt and wrapping around the soft, hot skin of her thighs. And then she kissed him again, and again, her lips trailing down his jaw and up to his ear, a small moan escaping her when his fingers dug into her legs. The sound made goosebumps rise on his skin, the hardness in his jeans balancing on unbearable.

He was running hot, wanting nothing more than to bury himself inside her—to see her face as he drove into her; as her body tensed and clenched around him. It was primal and nasty, and he hadn’t felt like this ever before.

Maybe it was because he didn’t like her, and maybe he was just finding out that it was exactly what made his body react this way.

Maybe this was how he’d get back at her for all the troubles she’d caused him.

Arthur caught her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him, and the desire in her eyes made him grunt in need. He kissed her, trailing his tongue over hers, enjoying how she tasted—how she moaned into his mouth and clung to him.

Her hand rested on him, feeling the hardness, grabbing it, and forcing his head back in pleasure. He wanted more.

He slid his hand between her legs, pulling her undergarments, watching how she closed her eyes and bit her lip—how blushed her skin was and how hot she felt. Hot and wet, his coarse fingers sliding up and down, eliciting a moan, and then another one, the noise mixing with the sounds of the night around them; with the whistling wind and crackling fire.

He understood how big of a fool he’d really been. How he’d never ride those trails again without thinking of her.

Arthur slid his fingers inside her, the tightness making him twitch in his jeans, and he had no time to adjust because she was already working on his zipper, showing him they were of the same mind.

And maybe that was the moment to stop. To stop and not to make a bigger mess out of things.

They were a part of the same goddamned gang and unless one of them decided to split, which he knew wouldn’t happen for him—not then and not ever—he’d have to live with her. She’d go on annoying him, and he’d go on wanting her. And eventually, he’d fall for her because he was a fool.

Instead of stopping, as if he could will them to do that, she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him into a wet, desperate kiss; her core pressing on him as she did and making him shiver in response.

_He was a fool._

Arthur grabbed her hips, not allowing either of them any more teasing, and pressed into her. A low moan escaped her lips and she wrapped her arms around his neck; her all-around presence overwhelming him.

He could feel himself pulse inside her—her body burning and slick with desire—and he thrust in again, the intensity of it making his muscles tense.

He picked up the pace, holding her down on him, and driving in and out in a rapid rhythm. He was not a gentle man, nor a patient one, and his desire was threatening to undo him should he not take her entirely.

Arthur didn’t stray from women should he really feel the need for it, but none of them so close, and none of them like this. This was different.

She might have grated on him any other time, but now he had her and he wanted her still. He wanted more of her, more of her body, and more of how she made him feel—how she made him twitch and pulse when she moaned and moved above him anytime he filled her.

He opened his eyes, grabbing her face and pulling it closer to his, forcing her to open her eyes to look at him. And she did look, her eyes foggy in pleasure but gaze intense, making him thrust in harder, feeling the release building up in the pit of his stomach.

When he felt as if he was nearly there—nearly spilling inside and filling her—she pushed him on his back. He landed in the dewy grass, the canopy of the night sky above him, and her body moving in and out of his view as he forced himself to keep his eyes open. He looked at her face, so soft and blushed, pleasure painting her features, and she looked nothing like the woman he’d known before; the woman who was driving nails in his coffin with every stupid stunt she pulled.

It was that sight that made him spill over the edge, his muscles tensing and a grunt escaping his mouth as he finished. With that, he could feel her reaching the same high, eyes shut and lips open when she came undone.

And then it was over, his common sense coming back, and nagging him for what he’d just pulled.

He was a fool. He really was.

She lifted herself off his body, standing up on the shaky legs and ironing the edges of her skirt.

“I—,” he started, but no words were coming to him.

There was nothing they could say now and they both knew it.

“It’s alright,” she mumbled and sat by the fire.

Her usual spunk was all but gone, and Arthur knew she was feeling just as he felt—as if they crossed some line there was no going back from.

He zipped his jeans back and sat on the opposite side of the fire.

It was silent, save for the sounds of the flames, and mountains around them, and it filled him with a certain sense of peace. A feeling that’d hopefully lull him to sleep and away from his own head.

Arthur lied down and closed his eyes, and he could hear her doing the same. He was on the verge of dreaming when something landed on his face and he swatted it away a tad too forcefully, waking himself up.

His eyes flew open and, as if it was the most natural thing to do, he turned his head to the side and looked at her. She was looking at him too, her gaze traveling all over his face and ending at his eyes, staying there a few seconds until her eyelids fluttered closed.

He swallowed hard and turned to the side, sleep taking him in deeply this time.


End file.
